The Man Who Can't Be Moved'
by Sugar Coated Accident
Summary: "...I'll sit here for years if I have to. But, if one day you wake up and find that you're missing me, and you start to wonder where I am, you won't have to look far. Because I'm right here, where we first met..." SongSeries! Lime, AkuRoku


Summary: "...I'll sit here for years if I have to. But, if one day you wake up and find that you're missing me, and you start to wonder where I am, you won't have to look far. Because I'm right here, where we first met..." SongSeries! AkuRoku

A/N: Here's my second story in my Song Series! I was asked to write something happier, so I complied! It's not as good as Terrible Things, I'm afraid. It's much more rushed, simply because I didn't enjoy it as much. BUT, I'm in the process of writing two more for the series as well, that I enjoy. So! I hope you like this more than I do. Happy reading!

Disclaimers: I do not own Kingdom Hearts, its characters, nor the song The Man Who Can't Be Moved (The Script). But, I wish I did. Oh... How I wish I did...

**'The Man Who Can't Be Moved'**

February 17th, 2012

The Man Who Can't Be Moved

A Piece by Luxord Price

It was a cold, harsh winter's day when I saw him. Well, actually, it was just a bit chilly. But that's not very dramatic, is it? You would have folded this newspaper and moved along if I'd said it was "chilly". So, for all intents and purposes, it was freezing out.

I was on my way to get my daily coffee, as always. Caramel, with a hint of chocolate. I'd walked the same route every morning. Straight down Main, a right onto Second, and then a left onto Pennsylvania. On that day, however, my trip onto Pennsylvania was cut short. As I was about to make a call to my loving wife, my foot got caught on a bit of newspaper. I'd stopped, frustrated, and began to peel it off.

I heard an aggitated noise, and turned to see a homeless man sitting on the corner. He reached out and tore the paper away from me. I opened my mouth to apologize, but he cut me off with a 'That was my blanket, Shithead' before he rolled away from me and dozed off.

I made my way from him quickly, knowing from experience to avoid the homeless as much as possible. The thought of them made my stomche quiver in disgust.

For the next week, I made my trips to the coffee house. And, for the next week, he was sitting there, at his corner, wrapped in his "blankets". Beside him sat a chunk of cardboard, with the words 'Have you seen him?' written in thick scribbles. I'd thought nothing of it at first. Until one day, I was discussing him with my wife.

"Luxord," she's said in a very serious tone, "Don't you find it odd that the man is in the same spot every day?"

And, the more I thought about it, the odder it seemed. Most of the homeless - to my knowledge - wandered, begging for money. This man, though, he was different. When he wasn't sleeping, he sat up, regal and sneering. He would scratch at his beard, then look at you and grin, before apologizing for his lack of manners. Whenever someone would hand him change, he'd hand it back, saying it was unneeded.

So - call it Journalist's Instinct, an immense sense of compassion, or just plain nosey-ness - the following day, I sat down beside him on that corner, and began to talk.

"Why are you here?" I'd asked.

"Me?" He snorted, the hairs under his nose billowing slightly. The color was alarmingly red, and a shock when set near his acidic eyes. "I'm here every day. If anyone should be asking that, it's me."

"Well," I'd told him, trying to ignore the dirt that coated his face, "I'm here to ask why _you're _here."

"Love."

No matter how much I pressed, I could get nothing more from him. "I'll be back." I said, as I got up to have a lunch with the head of the paper. "Tomorrow." He hummed in response, before holding up his sign, along with a picture that I didn't bother to examine.

The next few days followed with little advancement in our relationship. Then, one day I'd learned his name. Axel. Strange how such a little thing would open him up. But it did. I'd taken my wife's Big Book of Baby Names and read off all of them, until I finally rang upon his.

Once I could address him by his name, things ran much more smoothly.

"So," I started. He sat back against a building, his eyes closed peacefully under the sun. "Axel. You said you were here for love?" He hummed. "What did you mean?"

"My love. This is where we met." He opened his eyes and stared at the street-sign. "Right on this corner. I was tying my shoe, and he was running from his brother. When I stood up, he hit me." He grinned, showing off his unusually clean teeth. "Literally. I'd scared him shitless, and he cocked back and socked me."

I snorted. "Sounds like a great start."

His eyes closed again, and his smile faded. "It was. He spent hours fawning over me. Apologizing, asking if he could help, recommending home remodies. It was adorable."

"But," I furrowed my brows in confusion, "What does that have to do with you being here?"

He sighed. The sound was so much like his constant hums that I almost didn't pick up on the sorrow that laced it. "He left."

And, when he once again refused me information, I walked away from him. I made promises of coffee and pastries on my next visit, hoping to entice him into a little more detailed retelling. But, when I went back the next day, he was gone.

**'The Man Who Can't Be Moved'**

The door slammed loudly, shaking the frame and surrounding wall. Axel fisted his hands in his hair, groaning loudly. He grit his teeth, trying to drown out the noise of his lover's rantings. "...a single fucking day in your life, can you? No sir, not Axel _fucking _Rogers! I can't even begin to understand what goes on in that warped brain of yours!"

Axel snarled, his eyes blazing. "They deserved it."

"De... Deserved it?" The small blond in front of him paced their rather cramped kitchen. Axel wanted to move into a larger place. His other, ever afraid of commitment, had turned the idea down rather quickly. "Axel! They're my parents!"

"They were so rude, Rox!" The red-head slammed his fist down on the counter. "I'm tired of you standing up for them! They're scum! They treat you like less than dirt! I tell them off once, one time, and you're ready to sharpen all your pitchforks!"

Roxas scoffed. "Really? I'm mobbing now, am I?" He sighed, and turned his back on Axel. He dropped his hands to the counter, drumming his fingers on the surface. "I'm so tired of this, Axe. So, so - "

"You're tired?" Axel barked. "I didn't even do anything! You're the one who's always saying, 'Don't hold back, Axel! Let people see the real you, Axel!' How can I do that if - "

"Don't interupt me," came the quiet reply. "I'm serious. I'm trying to talk to you. You need to respect - "

"Respect? Me?" A loud, sarcastic laugh reached the blond's ears. "When we first got together, Rox, my 'lack of respect' was what you - " A dish zoomed past his head, shattering into pieces on the wall. Fourth one this week, if he was correct.

"_Don't fucking interupt me_!" The short man shreiked. "I try, and I try! But nothing works! I sit by and let you berate everyone, and you get pissed because I let you act an ass! I confront you, and I'm an uptight sunovabitch!"

Axel strode over to his partner, his green eyes glowing. "You sunovabitch - "

Roxas, seeming to have toned down a few levels, sighed. "You're not funny, Axe."

" - how dare you point out how stupid I am?"

A few chuckles and apologies later, they were tumbling into their twin-sized bed. Legs tangled together, hands pulling off as much clothing as poissble, but never completely losing contact. Red hair mixed with blond, and sweat pooled together. Their moans mixed so well together, and their gasps couldn't begin to be told apart.

Axel's hands were gripping his lover's hips, pounding into him. In the back of his mind, he knew he should probably flip the younger over. The kid loved that whole face-to-face shit. But, truly, he couldn't bring himself to. Not when Roxas was so hot around him, squeezing him so tightly it was almost impossible to move. He could feel it, just there. It was almost over.

But then Roxas pulled away from him, squirming out of reach. Smirking at Axel's perplexed face, he flipped them over, straddling Axel. He gripping himself tightly, beginning a smooth motion. So practiced, Axel would be tempted to taunt him, if it weren't for the drop of pre-cum slipping procariously from the blond's member, heading straight for Axel's stomach. Damn...

"So hot..." Axel growled, attempting to thrust up into his lover. Roxas simply snickered at him, pinning the red-head down as best as his small stature would allow him, rolling his hips ever-so-slightly.

He leaned forward, his lips brushing Axel's ear. "My turn, Stud..."

**'The Man Who Can't Be Moved'**

March 12, 2012

The Man Who Can't Be Moved

A Piece by Luxord Price

Hello, Twilight Town. Many of you sent in letters, asking what happened to Axel. Until his recent re-appearance at his corner, I'd had no idea myself. I walked by every day, hoping to see him. I tried to push his story out of my head, to no avail. I'd needed to know just what happened to the man. He seemed kind enough. Jilted more than anything. What could possess a perfectly normal man to throw his life away to live on the streets? Because, and I'm being honest with you here, "love" just wasn't an acceptable reason to me.

I'd all but given up. I was walking to get my coffee, and cast a side-ways glance. And there he was. Sitting there as if he'd never left. His face was clean shaven, and his hair pulled back. He had a sleeping-bag rolled up beside him, and the same sign. 'Have you seen him?' The picture was taped to the front, and I got a clear shot of this man's reasoning.

Nothing to spectacular, if I do say so myself. A blond who, if appearances could be believed, was at least four years younger than Axel himself. The hair on his head jutted out every-which-way, and seemed sharp enough to remove someone's eye. His lips were spread wide in a laugh, and his hands was raised, as if he was going to block the camera. Nothing marvelous, right? A normal candid photo of an ex-lover. Those eyes, though. Those were a reason to be homeless. A startling shade of blue, and round as quarters. His thick lashes framed them so nicely, I've had to question myself on whether or not mascara was involved.

When Axel saw me, he grinned. I smiled in return, and made to sit next to him. He scooched over a bit to make room. "So, how was vacation?"

He laughed. "Vacation? If that what they're calling it these days?"

I frowned. "Where have you been? I was beginning to worry. Slightly."

Mock-hurt crossed Axel's features, a hand coming up to clutch at his chest. "Only slightly? Why, Price, I'm injured."

"Axel."

The red-head's face was hidden as he ducked down. He sighed, crossing his legs. He placed his sign, face up of course, on the ground and began to speak. "A holding cell."

It was my turn to laugh. "Jail? Why?"

He shrugged. "Squatting or some shit like that. I refused to move when Mr Cop asked me to, so I was whisked away to my 'vacation home'."

I eyed his sleeping bag suspiciously. "If you were in prison, why the new bedroom set?"

The redhead shrugged. "A buddy of mine bought it for me." His voice reached a high falseto, "'If you're going to ruin your life, at least sleep somewhere decent.'" He ground his teeth and looked at the sidewalk. "Stupid mulleted..."

I shook with laughter. But, I was a man of business. I had a job to do. "So, Axel... your story..."

He smiled weakly, "Back to that, aye? Can't just enjoy my company?"

"We could do both."

The man sighed, leaning against the wall behind us. He folded his arms. "Roxas." He said once he was comfortable. "His name was Roxas."

I looked at him. "And?"

"And, he was perfect for me. Wouldn't take any of my shit. Told me where I could shove my sarcasm, and made me deal. But, unlike everyone else, he did it because he loved me." He sighed again, something I began to notice was a habit, before pressing onwards. "Well, I thought he did. But, one day, we fought. The first time in our entire, year-long relationship. You'd think that, since it was just that one, it would be easy to ignore, right? Yeah. Not to us. It became our thing. Our friends would go to the movies, or the beach, or the park, and we would fight."

I bit back all the comments I had on my tongue. Maybe, if they were fighting so much, Roxas leaving him was a good thing. Instead I said, "What happened?"

"Life." A bitter laugh. "Or, at least, that's what Roxas told me. We'd changed. Grown apart. Life happened, and we weren't right anymore." His face fell and he looked, for the first time since I'd first seen him, lost. "I'd never thought that, though. Not through any of our worst fights. I couldn't. I knew we had changed. But we changed _together_, so it's different, right?" He wrapped his arms around his knees. "Rox didn't agree."

"Did you tell him that?"

"Of course. I'm not stupid." He shifted slightly, obviously becoming uncomfortable. "Okay... So, I didn't. I am stupid..." I knew I wouldn't have long this time.

"But, why the streets? What do they have to do with anything?"

He looked away from me, and I thought he was done. But then, he turned again to face me, a renewed smile on his face. "I want to be famous."

I felt my heart land somewhere below me. "Famous?" I became furious. I spent so long with this man. Pushing and prodding, hoping for something real. And what did I get? 'Famous'. That mother...

"Yeah. Famous." He tugged at his eyebrow, and I had to resist pulling his hand away. "Maybe, if I'm famous, he'll find me again." He met my eyes, and I saw a pleading expression in them. "At first, it was just a thing to get attention. Self pity, I guess. But then, I read what you wrote about me... I think it would work! I mean, if you saw Man Who Can't Be Moved, wouldn't you read it? And if you found out it was some hopeless sap waiting for you, wouldn't you come running back?" He looked at me still, his voice begging me to agree.

I didn't ask him to continue this time, though. I didn't bother to answer. I simply walked away, brought him mocha and a scone, then left for work.

**'The Man Who Can't Be Moved'**

Two sets of hands toyed with the bedsheets, and they gazed at their respective fingers. Neither wanted to be the first to speak, because neither knew what to say. 'I love you', maybe? 'I'm sorry'? Their eyes met, and finally, Roxas spoke up.

"I think... I think we're done."

Axel looked up at him. He wanted to scream, to yell, to do something. But nothing would move. He just sat there on his side of their bed. He swallowed. "Done?"

"Y-Yeah... I mean, c'mon, Axe." A small hand ran nervously through blond hair. "You know we can't keep doing this."

"Doing... what?" Axel was afraid to speak. He felt like he was on Animal Planet. Any sudden movements, and the pygmy would frighten, and run away quickly.

"_This_." He motioned to their bodies. "Fight, fuck, makeup. Fight, fuck, makeup." He looked to Axel again. "It's pointless. And, it hurts."

"We don't have to fight!" The older of the two suddenly yelped. "We don't! I can stop! Easy!"

"Axe," Roxas started, "If you could stop, why haven't you already?" When silence met him, he pressed forward. "I just... Maybe we've outgrown each other. Maybe it's time we moved on."

Roxas looked emploringly at him. Axel didn't say anything. Roxas packed up a few things. Axel didn't say anything. Roxas told him goodbye, "staying at Namine's for a while" he told him. Axel didn't say anything. With one last desperate look at Axel, then their small apartment, Roxas left.

Suddenly, Axel had a lot to say.

**'The Man Who Can't Be Moved'**

July 23, 2011

'All over town people are talking about him. The Man Who Can't Be Moved. A seemingly homeless man, fighting for what we all wish we could fight for. Love.

It's been almost six months since we all first read about him, and he's still around. He hasn't moved, save for a few excursions to the Police Department. He's vowed never to move from his spot on the corner, until his love returns. An act of desperation, perhaps, but one that has captured the hearts of the world.

Larxene Price has more. Larxene?'

Larxene Price came into view. Her blond hair was slicked back, and her lovely sportsuit was shocking in contrast with her companions rags. 'Thank you, Xig.' She turned her harsh face to her latest job. 'So, tell me all about your plight, Mister Rogers.'

The camera panned over to a ragged looking man with crayon-red hair. He grinned through his scruffy beard and snatched the microphone from the reporter's hand. 'Gladly Missus Price!' His alarming green eyes gazed at the audience. 'Roxas. I understand what you meant. I know you think you hate me, but you don't.' He smiled at the camera. 'You love me. I know we had our ups and downs. Granted, at the end there were more downs. But, still. I know you love me. And I, most definitely, love you.

I can - and will - wait, though. As long as it takes. I'll sit here for years if I have to. But, if one day you wake up and find that you're missing me, and you start to wonder where I am, you won't have to look far. Because I'm right here, where we first met.' His smile widened. 'You know how stubborn I am, Rox. I can wait forever.'

The camera went back to Larxene, who looked slightly uncomfortable at having the spotlight taken off of her. 'Well, I'm afraid that's all the time we have. Thank you, Axel, for such a touching announcement. Back to Xigbar Michells.'

'Xigbar, here. We know continue our week long segment on the polar ice - '

Two hours away, a television was shut off.

**'The Man Who Can't Be Moved'**

Axel groaned, feeling a little let down. It had been a week since his new reoprt, and, honestly, he'd expected results. Not neccessarily a relationship with Roxas, but at least a letter. Maybe not even that, since he'd lost his apartment. He glanced at the setting sun, and resigned himself to another failed day. He propped his sign up on the wall behind him, and curled up on his newspaper. He'd sold his sleeping bag for money for food. As easy as he made this homeless thing look, it was actually difficult. He drug another piece (he noticed idely that it was the Sports Section) across him for his blanket, and dozed.

His dream was lovely. A blond filled his head. And, in sharp contrast to his other dreams, said blond was fully dressed. He was sitting on their sofa, reading a news paper. 'I see your famous?' He said, smirking. Then he was at the beach, laughing as Axel was hounded by reporters, ignoring the redheads cry for help. Next, they were spooning in bed, their fingers threaded together. Axel was toying with the hair on the top of his head, cooing softly. 'Hmm... Axel?' Roxas said.

'Axel?'

"Axel?"

The redhead growled, turning over to retrieve his dream from the depths of his mind. He felt someone nudge him with their foot and ignored it. Those damned reporters. Now that they'd sunk their teeth into him, they were constantly hounding him. He blamed the male Price.

He was ripped from his thoughts as he blanket was snatched away. "Mother fu - " His eyes widened as he gazed at his blanket-theif. "I... Roxas?"

.E.N.D.

A/N: I know, I suck. :D But all the other endings just seemed so... cheesy. Cheesier than the rest of this story, I mean. And, also: Yes. I know. Mister Rogers. Ha. Ha. Review and I'll... reward you with sexual favors?


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